


Unmade Men

by DustToDust



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 36
Words: 15,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1495717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustToDust/pseuds/DustToDust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Winterhawk drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt for love and hate for this couple.

Clint loves the taste of blood when they kiss. A violent clash of teeth and lips that sucks all the air right out of their lungs. Sucks the fire of their anger right up and cranks the heat even higher until the only thing that can quench it is bare skin.

He loves that almost as much as he loves the way Bucky rises to his bait. Snapping back with words and fists every time Clint pushes further than he should. He loves the fact that Bucky will bait him right back. Jabbing every single button Clint has until they're breaking walls and leaving droplets of blood on the ground everywhere.

He loves the way Bucky goes silent on missions. His words becoming shorter and gruffer when the mask goes on and he seems like an entirely different person even though he's really not. Despite what the look in Steve's eyes might say, Winter Soldier is still Bucky, and Clint loves the fact that he can see what the rest of the team so very clearly misses.

He loves that he can let go then during those missions. Can go as quiet as he needs to be without Tony needling him for witty banter. Can simply do what needs to be done as efficiently as possible and not worry about his actions being questioned. That he can jump down from his vantage point and turn a long distance sniping mission into an up close and personal fight if he feels like it. He loves that Winter Soldier will just roll with it and have his back no matter what.

Clint hates the quiet times though. The times between missions and fights and fucks when he's sacked out on the couch zoning on television, and doesn't even realize Bucky's there until something breaks his zen. Gets his attention away from the TV long enough to notice Bucky's shaggy hair brushing against his arm while the man himself sleeps on the floor. Back pressed up against the couch and head angled towards Clint.

He hates the way Bucky sneaks up on him sometimes. Not with any intent of harm or he'd be thrown across the room, but with an intent that gets Clint pulled in by a warm, fleshy arm and a chaste kiss pressed to the back of his neck. The way a few playful words are whispered in his ear. No trace of any sort of bite at all in the endearments Bucky calls him.

He hates the look that gets in Bucky's eyes sometimes when they're both sweaty and panting, or even when they're not doing anything at all but sitting across the room from each other. It's a soft look. Something tender and gentle that isn't anything that Clint signed up for when they started this thing between them.

He hates, above all else, the way his own breath goes short on seeing that look. The way he aches to reach out for it and pull it in close. To nurture it and make it stay. To make Bucky _stay_.

Clint hates it all, but he loves it too much to even think of giving it up.


	2. 1 Sentence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few Winterhawk prompts from when I was doing one sentence responses.

kaitouhime1412 asked: A coffin for two?

"Well, damn," Bucky huffs out as every effort to move only sends more waves of pain through him, Clint makes an amused noise against him —Clint hasn’t said anything since his first attempt tore a wound wide and bathed Bucky in blood— and weakly pats his arm when Bucky wraps his flesh arm around him, "Shittiest place to die."

.  
.

superbuckybearears asked: WINTERHAWKPROMPT: "Shut up bucky, its just swing dancing, old man - how hard can it be?" Bucky proves him wrong.

"Fuck you," Clint hisses after the cast has been set and he’s been released from the hospital, Bucky’s ‘concerned boyfriend’ act guaranteeing the asshole the night —if not the whole week— on the couch alone.


	3. Dead Men Tell No Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for Clint getting hurt and Bucky having his back.

"Ah, fuck me," Clint grunts as a solid boot presses threateningly into his windpipe. Not enough to do any actual damage, just enough to show an intent like it wasn't already fucking obvious when Clint got shot in the fucking gut.

Clint goes limp and plays possum. Groaning less out of a need to act than he'd like, but the lucky punk who got a sucker's shot off isn't paying that much attention to him anyway. He's too busy scanning the dark floor of the warehouse. "I've got your partner! You want him alive, you're going to come out right now! Hands in the air, and if I see you even so much as twitch wrong I'll plug a hole in him!"

No he won't. The stupid fucker has his gun trained on the empty space that Clint _knows_ is empty. He won't even have the chance to push down on Clint's neck before Bucky gets the drop on him. It's a stupid move, and Clint just knows he's going to get so much shit over being taken down by this punk.

"Do you hear me!?" The punk screams, his voice going uncomfortably high as he waves his gun at nothing. "I'll fucking do it! I'll-"

A fine mist of blood puffs out in the air as the punk rockets forward like he was punched from behind. Clint coughs as the boot scrapes uncomfortably across his throat, but forces himself to roll away so that he's not under the corpse when it falls. "Fuck me."

"Later," Bucky drawls out as he drops from the catwalks that the punk hadn't even bothered looking at. His gun is still out and his eyes darting around the warehouse even as he moves to crouch over Clint. "When you're not bleeding like a stuck pig."

"Fuck you," Clint breathes as he attacks the pouches in the small of Bucky's back. Pulling out a compressed gauze pad and ripping it open with his teeth. Pressing it down onto the messily bleeding hole and gritting his teeth against the pain as he hopes like hell it didn't go all the way through. There's only the one bandage between the two of them, and Clint's not looking forward to the disinfecting process he'll have to go through if they use something that's not sterilized to stem the bleeding. "Fuck you up the ass, Barnes. And _that's_ going to happen later tonight. In the fucking hospital after I've been stitched up."

"Don't think the docs'll like that," Bucky's left hand steals down to press over Clint's hands. The cold metal pressing hard enough to make Clint see stars, but that's perfectly alright with Clint. There's a countdown going on over the comms and he knows he's only minutes away from the sweet release of a morphine shot. "You might pop all those stitches you're going to need."

"Guess you'll just have to do all the work then," Clint grunts out as they both hear the clatter of running feet. It coincides with the codes being given over the comms and Bucky moves his gun just as the first medic rounds the corner.

"Whatever you say, dear," Bucky responds as he moves to let the man get at Clint. His voice sweetly innocent even as his hard eyes stare down the portion of the building that hasn't been secured yet. He stays close until the medic has another gauze pad out and urges them both to move their hands. "It's a date."

Bucky leans down and presses a hard kiss to Clint's lips as he feels the pinch of a needle going in his arm. The rush of the drugs is immediate and cooling, but he still hears Bucky's last words. "I'll grab the lube and condoms after I'm done taking care of these dead men."


	4. Be Careful It's My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt made it's way around Tumble; imagine your OTP knowing they're going to die and dancing together slowly, one of them whispering lyrics into the other's ear. I like the idea too much. Song is the title of the chapter and comes from the musical Holiday Inn.

"Dance with me," Clint says and Bucky barks out a harsh laugh as the man doesn't wait for an answer. Just pulls Bucky in close and starts to spin them around madly. 

Bucky stumbles for the first few steps until he's caught his balance. The loss of his prosthetic arm throwing his balance off more than he'd ever thought it possible. He balks a little and slows them down so that they're not going to get sick with dizziness. Wrapping his right arm around Clint and guiding him into a proper waltz. "Where the hell'd you learn to dance anyway, Barton? A carousel?"

"Don't knock the carnie education, Barnes," Clint gives in easily and cedes lead to Bucky without a fight. Moving with enough grace that it's obvious the man knows how to dance properly. "We know things."

"Sure you do," Bucky allows grandly as they move over the cracked asphalt of the abandoned street. Their boots crunching on charred debris and other things it's best not to think too closely on. 

Clint's got both arms wrapped around him and is grinning into his face. All devil may care attitude and that crazy acceptance that shit just happens to him and there's nothing he can do to stop it. The man's got not one regret left and he's doing what he wants in his last moments. Dancing with Bucky in the streets while the rest of the world burns around them.

The heat is getting intense as Bucky decides to follow Clint's lead in this one thing. Pulling the man in so close that they can't really move without tripping over each other's feet. Until they're mostly just swaying together and breathing each other's air.

Bucky tilts his head in for a light kiss and sings the words from a musical he saw so long ago. Only part of the words sticking with him, "Sweetheart of mine, I've sent you a valentine. Sweetheart of mine, it's more than a valentine.  
Be careful, it's my heart."

"Sap," Clint laughs against his lips. His own stretching out in a grin Bucky feels as he closes his eyes against the rising heat that presses in like a giant fist. The buildings start to catch fire around them and the ground starts sinking under their feet.

"Says the man who wants to dance," Bucky huffs back and that's how they die. Laughing and clinging to each other. Swaying to the music of flames before falling down.


	5. Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for them arguing about something small while sparing.

"No," Clint grunts as he's flipped over and thrown. He tucks his head in and manages to turn it into a roll. Coming up on his feet fast enough to block the follow up punch. "I took him out last night while your ass was passed the fuck out on the couch."

"So? That was your turn," Bucky tries kneeing Clint in the gut but aborts the move when Clint throws an elbow at his neck. "I took him out at lunch when you were too busy getting your ass handed to you in Mario Cart."

"Bullshit!" Clint dives. Going for the one knife Bucky hasn't pulled yet and nearly gets a metal fist to the face before he can dodge. "I did take him out," Clint snaps his mouth shut to avoid biting through his tongue as Bucky gets a boot against his chest and pushes hard. "Just because you're stupid enough to fall for the pitiful act doesn't mean I skipped my turn."

"Now that is a load of bull," Bucky fakes left before going left for real. He's leading with his left arm as Clint lashes out with the knife. Taking the hits on the metal and trying to disarm him. "He couldn't even wait till we were off the lobby stairs to take a huge crap. Lunch hour, Clint, you know how many assholes I had to look at while Lucky was taking a dump?"

Clint laughs because that image is hilarious and the knife gets ripped easily out of his hands before Bucky tackles him to the mats. "It's not funny you asshole!"

"Yes it is!" Clint gets out past the laughter still shaking him. Bucky snorts but his lips curl up into a grin as he settles in over Clint. Heavy but not really pinning him down. "How many of them did you tell to fuck off?"

"All of them," and Clint can see it now. Lucky squatting while Bucky stands there in sweats and a ratty hoodie, hair tied back sloppily as he glares down men and women in smart business suits. Clint is going to owe Tony so much to make a copy of that off the security reels. "But seriously, you should've taken the damn dog out, Clint. You're the one who picked him up off the streets and swore you'd take care of him."

"Dog's fine," Clint says when his laughter dies down. He wraps his arms around Bucky and shifts until he's comfortable. "Jarvis monitors him just in case, and can get him outside with one of the lab bots in no time flat. You worry too much."

"You gonna trust your dog to Dummy?" Bucky asks with an arched brow.

"I'm going to trust Dummy to my dog," Clint grins at the frustrated look that slides across Bucky's face. "Seriously, Bucky, you worry too much. Lucky's a smart boy, he can take care of himself. Ain't that right, Lucky?"

There's a growled bark before Lucky jumps onto the mats and they both get a face full of dog breath and tongue.

"Dammit, Lucky!" Bucky tries to growl but Clint can hear the laughter there. So can Lucky, because the dog leaves Clint alone and focuses entirely on the other man.

Bucky rolls off taking the dog with him and Clint sits up to watch them with a grin. His body aching from bruises, but it's easily ignored as Bucky starts laughing for real.


	6. Best Woman

"Will I have to wear a tuxedo?" Natasha asks after Clint’s done stammering out the thing he’s been trying to spit out all morning. She kindly removes her foot from his throat so he can answer properly and without threat this time.

"No? Yes? Maybe?" Clint climbs back up onto his couch and rubs his throat a little before settling back into a sprawl. Much more comfortable looking now that he’s not trying to find words to say. "I dunno, Nat. Do you _want_ to wear a tux?"

"Maybe," Natasha fold herself back up into the portion of the couch not being occupied. A warm feeling lights up in her chest. She’s pleased and awed as ever by Clint’s regard for her, his trust something that she feels privileged to have. She’ll never admit it out loud, but the feeling is one she treasures. "Don’t you have any idea what you want to do already?"

"Uh, yeah," Clint scratches the back of his head and looks a little embarrassed. "I kinda just wanted to fly down to Vegas. Get Elvis or an alien to do the ceremony, you know?"

Which is a very Clint thing to do. Plus or minus a lethal amount of alcohol. “And we’re not doing this because?”

"Bucky wants an actual ceremony," Clint admits with a grimace and sheepish shrug. He’s leaning a little ways back from her like he’s expecting her to lash out again at him. "Like a real, solemn kind of thing. Aisle, flower girls, candle lighting, smashing plates."

"Plates?" Natasha ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Hell if I know, Nat," Clint's shrug is a study of carelessness, but his tiny grin is pleased. "I'm just going to do what I'm told and say 'I do' when asked. I don't really care about anything else."

Which is an absolute lie. Clint does care. He's just still too wrapped up in the fact that someone wants to make a huge --and probably very public-- deal out of marrying _him_ to figure that out for himself. Which is most likely why James is insisting on it being so big and grandiose. It's his way of saying, without having to actually say it, how much he means this act. How very much Clint truly means to him.

It's sickeningly sweet to think about so Natasha doesn't think about it. Just focuses on the role Clint has asked her to take in this ceremony. There's a history of responsibility about being Best Man, and Natasha knows Clint doesn't know any of it. Knows that he just asked her because he literally cannot think of any other person being a better Best Man than her.

"Best Woman," Natasha sounds out and it doesn't sound too terribly ridiculous. Clint grins and Natasha firms her resolve. Clint might not know all the traditions and expectations for the role, but she's not going to let that stop her from living up to each and every single one of them. This might not be Clint's first marriage, but it's the first one that he's talked to her about it _before_ it actually happened. That means something a whole lot more than Clint thinks. "Alright, You can tell Stark to stop hounding you for the position now. He can be the Flower Child."

Clint snickers, no doubt bringing up images of Stark dressed up as a hippy as he pouts his way down the aisle. Throwing bruised clumps of flower petals into the faces of people he doesn't like.

It's an entertaining position and she resolves to talk to James about it, because none of them actually know anyone with children. They might as well go for the next best thing. She has very little doubt that the solemn ceremony James has been describing to Clint is nothing more than a prod to get the man to contribute something he actually wants. One doomed to failure until Clint gets over his high of being wanted. Which won't happen until around their eight or ten year anniversary.

"I think I'll wear a tux," Natasha muses. Mentally ordering a list of things she knows Clint will want but won't ever ask for. Why they decided to plan this while she was away she will never understand. James should know better by now that Clint won't ever risk jeopardizing anything this important with something he sees as being so unimportant as his own wants. "There's a few good lines out this year."

"Great!" Clint grins at her as she gets to her feet and then reaches out to brush his knuckles down her arm. "Thanks, Nat."

He means it for more than her acceptance, and she smiles down at him. Pressing back against his knuckles briefly before leaving. She has an entire list of things to ensure happen in the next few months, and time is not waiting for any of them.


	7. Here There Be Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some talk going on at Tumblr about a possible [WinterHawk week](http://saintnoname.tumblr.com/post/95779558079/hey-guys-how-would-you-feel-about-a-winterhawk). Anyone possibly interested in that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I do want to play. You don’t suppose there’s anything we could do about it?_

"Well," Clint says after a thoughtful pause, "short of launching anti-aircraft up at them I don’t think we’re going to get to play in this round."

Which is a damn shame because dragons! Who _doesn't_ want to say they fought a dragon? Sure, it was a mechanical dragon, but a dragon is a dragon. Clint's not going to be all that picky.

"It’s not even a real dragon," Bucky eventually grouches because hell yes he’s going to be the one to be that picky. Only after they all realize the damn thing is going to stay airborne. Where only Thor and Iron Man can have a shot at it.

And Hulk. Clint watches as the green guy launches himself impossibly high and grabs a metal tail. He dangles and the dragon stills, but stays stubbornly in the air.

"Sucks to be you!" Tony’s voice cackles over the comm line. He’s having a blast and isn’t caring that everyone else is bored now. "Why don’t you all go home and get dinner warmed up for us? I think the three of us are more than enough to handle this _dragon_.”

Nat snorts loud and clear but Clint can see her walking away. Disappointment in every line of her body as Cap stubbornly stays his ground below. Clint gives the man five minutes before Nat’s dragging him away from the field.

"Hey," Clint checks the distance and regretfully sees that it’s still too far for even him before dropping down to sit next to Bucky on the roof’s edge. Bucky lets him get an arm around him with only a single raised eyebrow in question. "Want to make out obnoxiously loud for Stark?"

"No!" Tony cuts in. Sharp and pained even as Thor laughs loudly. Clint can see Cap bringing a hand up to face out of the corner of his eye, but he keeps his gaze locked on Bucky. "Hell no! You two are worse than rabbits, and I get enough of that at home. I swear I’ll bring this dragon over right now if you don’t start that."

"Well?" Clint asks with a grin. "You heard the man. What do you want to do?"

Bucky’s grin is wide and filled with vicious, vicious intent as he twists. Getting a hand behind Clint’s head and pulling him close as he purrs. “Suddenly, I’m not so interested in dragons anymore.”

Clint laughs into the kiss and it makes the noise loud and obvious as Bucky pulls him into the messiest kiss ever.

"Fuck you both!" Tony shouts and Clint can hear it even without the comms. "I’m bringing the dragon over anyway."


	8. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written after seeing this [sketch](http://templeait.tumblr.com/post/145278824593/suddenly-im-horribly-artblocked-so-have-this) made by Templeait. I don't know. I couldn't help it?

Hot blood rolled down Bucky's hand and his nose was filled with the scent of it. Only the strong beating of Clint's pulse under his index and pointer finger kept him from sinking into the cold rage he could feel trying to tempt him under. An emotionless voice that demanded he finish the mission and _end_ the target's life.

Clint's heartbeat kept him focused on the present and not the inevitable end. Natasha would find the man and kill him. Right now, it was more important for Bucky to stay with Clint and monitor him. To make sure that the cut on his head didn't turn into something worse, and make the unconscious man would not be hurt further.

Bucky counted the fluttering under his fingers, eyes staring intently around them for any threat, and waited for help to arrive.


	9. Upped Ante

"I hate all of these bird magnets, where do you keep finding them?" Bucky woke up that morning with three seagulls, a pigeon, a humming bird, and an owl magnet stuck to his metal arm. The owl had been purple and blue with sequins for eyes. 

Clint, fully awake and not drinking out of the carafe for once, looks over the rim of his mug at him. The bastard's smiling as he takes his time answering. "I really don't know. They just keep showing up. Sort of like all this merchandising stuff does."

He waves the white mug with a purple H and single arrow painted on it as an example and then nods at the cardboard boxes --all three of them-- next to the door that are filled with all kinds of Hawkeye merchandise.

Touche, Bucky thinks as he gets his own mug to fill up. "So it's sort of like how all my recordings somehow got overwritten by Dog Cops?"

"And exactly like how all my smoke bang arrows were replaced with glitter bombs," Clint says agreeably. His face is perfectly set and showing nothing at all of what he's thinking so Bucky matches it with his own blank mask.

"Which was just like how a dog," Lucky perks up at the mention and Bucky reaches out to pat his head as he passes the dog, "got into the place."

"Or how I suddenly lost the right to sleep in my bed alone," Clint drops his mask first and arches an expectant eyebrow at Bucky. Waiting for an explanation that Bucky had expected to be demanded four months ago.

He still doesn't have one to give though and they sit in uncomfortable silence for a bit before Bucky snorts and looks deep into his mug. Choosing to ignore the prod for answers.

"You know, usually there's a couple of steps people take before moving in with someone," Clint waves one broad hand expansively around them. Pointing out spots where Bucky's few possessions, mostly weapons, are mingled with Clint's. "Dinners, dates," Clint smirks slightly at something he finds amusing, "at the very least."

"I'll take pancakes," slips out of Bucky's mouth automatically, and Clint looks over at the stove with a considering look that eases the tension that's been winding up in Bucky. "Bought, Barton. Like hell I'm letting you poison me with your cooking again."

"Fine," Clint agrees with an expressive eyeroll. He pushes himself up and away from the table and walks away. His voice floats back easily from the next room. "But if I don't get a kiss afterwards I'm going to shoot you."


	10. Possessive

"Why do you have to be so rude to him?" Clint frowns as the man they'd been talking to stalks off further into the bar. The crowd swallowing him up easily though the thick cologne he'd worn lingers long afterwards.

"Fucker couldn't take a hint," Bucky mutters as he hunches back down on the stool. Doing an amazing job of both filling out the space he's carved for himself while still almost sitting directly ontop of Clint in his space. The way his lips peel back from his teeth in a snarl is fierce enough to get them both an extra few inches from the night crowd.

"Hint for what?" Clint asks letting his face turn puzzled. Not because he has no idea what just happened, but for entirely selfish reasons that will get him an asskicking the day Bucky finally figures them out. Clint can be a moron, yes, but even he's not so thick that he didn't realize the Axe guy was hitting on Bucky and doing his damnest to get him away from Clint.

Bucky's face darkens even more and he slams back the drink he has before reaching out to finish Clint's. He's got a brief moment to throw some money over the counter before Bucky's pulling him out of the bar and out into the clearer night. Clint stumbles along after him with a few protests and continues his ignorant act right up until Bucky cuts into an alley and pushes him up against the crumbling brick wall.

"You're a catch," Bucky growls and Clint would make fun of him for that phrase if the low register of his voice and intent look in his eyes didn't dry out his mouth. "And I'm as much yours as you are _mine_."

Any response Clint was going to make is cut off by a hungry kiss that's filthier than the alley they're in. Which is saying something for New York, 

Yeah, Clint knows damn well what the dude whose name he's already forgotten was angling for, and he knows why Bucky got short and nasty with him to drive him off. There's no point in letting on that he does know though. Not when Bucky's so very good at being possessively protective of him. Clint's a moron, but he's not stupid enough miss out on this.


	11. Soulmark

"Why do you hide your soulmark?" Bucky is looking at the cuff Clint wears around his right wrist, his newly made arm picking unconsciously at the sleeve of his own shirt. Covering soulmarks with long sleeves isn't uncommon, but the broad cuff Clint wears goes beyond that.

Clint's used to the question. It's not common, not as common as it used to be before he started hiding it, but he still gets asked it every once in a while. No matter how many times he's asked it and been disappointed Clint still feels his heart pick up the pace when Steve's buddy asks it curiously. He can almost feel those words that are etched into his skin and there's a small, wistful voice in his mind thinking, 'Maybe, this time will be different.'

He squashes that thought as best he can and shrugs.

"Bad habit I picked up in the circus, I guess," Clint tosses out one of the dozen excuses he has already prepared. Watching Bucky's face very closely out of habit more than hope.

Bucky blinks once and Clint already feels that hopeful thought dying away once again. "What?"

"The circus," Clint leans up against a wall and gives the man a show worthy smile as he mimes pulling a shot. "Thought it'd be a good idea to join the circus when I was a kid. Learned all I needed to know there about being the Amazing Hawkeye, best marksman in the world!"

Clint chuckles because his voice raised at the end their unconsciously imitating the barkers. It's also a blatant lie. The circus started his learning, he only learned the important things latter when his life depended on it.

"That's not-" Bucky breaks off with a frown and then sits up. Clint almost chides him to stay down like the doctors who brought him out of the freezer had warned him to. If Steve were in the room and not getting the run down from the docs outside, Clint knows he would've pushed the man back down. Clint's not Steve though and Bucky seems more than steady enough as he sits up and turns to let his legs hang off the bed. The new arm fumbles a little but Bucky pulls his right sleeve up to expose the line of words that is his own soulmark, and the dying hope rekindles as Clint leans forward.

Bad habit I picked up in the circus, I guess. Slants across Bucky's wrist and Clint feels really stupid when he says, "Oh." He stares for a moment before reaching down to undo his cuff and show his own mark.

"You got asked that a lot," Bucky states quietly and reaches out with his flesh hand to touch the skin under the question he'd just asked.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Clint says with a short laugh. Elation wars with logic inside him because he's found his soulmate and his soulmate is the Winter Soldier. Complicated doesn't even begin to describe it, but the light touch of the man's finger to his skin is almost addicting.

That gets a short bark of laughter out of Bucky and when he looks up Clint sees more than a little shock and wariness there. It's nice to know they're both on the same page. Clint steps back when the door swings open and Steve comes in. Bucky seems a little relieved though he still looks over at Clint through the rest of the day.


	12. Stay Down

"Stay down, I'll try to lead them away from here," Clint says but he's not entirely sure that Bucky hears him. His body is still rigid and very still from whatever the fuck it is those bastards shot him with. A taser of some kind, but juiced up enough that when it'd hit the Winter Soldier had gone down. Hard and, Clint hopes not, permanently.

"Bucky, James," Clint needs to move. Needs to get up and start leading the search teams away from this hiding spot now, but he takes the time to reach out and cup the man's face. His eyes are unfocused but there's awareness there that makes him focus in on Clint's face. "Stay here. I'll be back."

Maybe. There are a lot of Hydra agents out there, and Clint's pissed. He'll lead them away from Bucky but after that he has every single intention of killing them all. No matter what it takes. Priority number one is making sure they don't lay a finger on Bucky again though.

He can hear the clatter of running feet and Clint kisses Bucky quickly before bolting away. Already sending a rain of death down on the bastards who saw which direction he came from. He's got the advantage now, but it's going to take some work to pull them away from the warehouse without finding Bucky. Clint grimly sets to work.


	13. Adopted

"Can we adopt him please?" 

"No! It isn't a dog! It's a child!" 

"I'm not an 'it'!" Peter protests and struggles against the surprisingly strong arms holding him in place. Well, not so surprising really, being Hawkeye seems to be all about upper body strength and Peter doesn't actually want to hurt the other man by using too much of his own strength. No matter how annoyed he might be at the way his hair is getting ruffled. "And I'm not a kid!"

"Like hell you're not," the Winter Soldier snorts and shifts his glare from Hawkeye. Despite the way things have recently turned out, Peter can't help the reflexive shiver that makes him want to hide behind Hawkeye or somewhere very high and very far away. He's heard too many stories of what the man is capable of by now to not to be at least a little afraid of him. Even though he still wants to get a closer look at that metal arm. Coolest. Thing. Ever! "Clint, let the kid go. You're not keeping him. You already have the dog, Kate, and Wanda. You don't need any more strays."

"Says you," Peter yelps as he's picked up off the ground far too easily for his own comfort. He looks over one broad shoulder at a now exasperated Winter Soldier who looks like he's got a headache coming on. "He likes pizza and Dog Cops. We're keeping him. Hey girls! I got you a new little brother!"

"Hey!" Peter protests but no one listens to his objections. Par for the course these days it seems.


	14. Food for Thought

"We haven't met because I haven't left the vents when people are around for about a month but I have been making you coffee and food just like you like it and now you caught me doing it," the man that Bucky recognized as the elusive Hawkeye said with a sheepish shrug and a smile that didn't seem all that embarrassed even as he finished plating what had to be the best damn eggs and hash Bucky's had in his whole life. "I'm Clint, by the way."

The plate and a mug of almost creamy looking coffee get placed on the counter between them and Bucky stares at it a bit before a slight scuff turns his attention back to the man, Clint, who looks like he's getting ready to climb back up into the vents again. The thought of the potentially unguarded access point makes his skin crawl just like the magically appearing food has been doing for weeks now.

It's not something that he's going to let chase him away, but he's sure as hell going to be giving it some serious eyeballing every now and again.

"Wait," Bucky says, surprising himself with the word almost as much as Clint who freezes in a crouch on the counter. Bucky's talked to Steve, and a little to Sam lately, but he hasn't gone out of his way to engage anyone else yet. Not even the people he keeps being sent to who are supposed to make him better. Whatever that might mean for him anymore. "Why are you doing this?"

That isn't the question he meant to say. He'd wanted to ask 'how' because he's eaten what's been put in front of him for decades now. He's not even sure if he knows what he likes anymore, but everything Clint's left out for him has been fantastic. The how of it really should be a more pressing question, but it doesn't come out of his mouth that way at all.

Clint's been looking at him though since he first spoke. His eyes are steady and intense. Both in their color and fixation on Bucky that makes him start to think maybe the why really is more important after a long few seconds.

"Because I need to," Clint says and it's only because Bucky's watching him so closely that he catches the emotions that flicker through those eyes. Things that are terribly familiar to Bucky.

Clint's up in the vents in under a second, the grate closing with no sound, before Bucky can think of something to say to that. He stares upwards for a bit but doesn't hear so much as a scrape of a boot from the vents. The smell of the food brings him back from the precipice of a terrifyingly paranoid spiral of thoughts.

The eggs are still the best he's ever had, and the coffee is so doctored with things he can't identify that there's not one single hint of bitterness to it. Bucky eats slowly and turns Clint's words over in his head for the rest of the morning.

_Because I need to. _There's something fragile but freeing in that thought. By the time the dishes are put away Bucky's speaking to the AI that's been monitoring him for the first time. "Hey, Jarvis, right? What can you tell me about Clint?"__


	15. Retired Not Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://ashestodustdusttoashes.tumblr.com/post/146185575868/prompt-me

"Fuck! I knew I was getting old but did you guys have to replace me the second you got a chance?"

Bucky goes cold the second he hears the words, the voice that says them. If he weren't so hurt, so damn tired he'd be turning around looking for someone still living to rip apart. With his hands so he can feel the hot blood of the fucking bastards who dared-

He stumbles instead and it's a cracked concrete wall that holds him. It's difficult but he manages to turn around and slide back the way he's just come from. Back to one of the cell doors he hasn't been paying as much attention to as he should have. There'd been no point in that. Not before.

The cells are small, sterile things despite the bars being the only door. Clint grins at him from the ground. Blood streaks down his face from the movement that breaks open several scabs, and it does his bruised face no favors. One eye squints at Bucky as he sways and then slowly kneels to the ground. "You know I was joking about retirement, right?"

"Clint," Bucky says and ignores the sudden silence that goes through the comms. He's angry, tired, hurt, and so god damn happy that he doesn't bother answering the torrent of questions Steve starts peppering him with. The sound of the wrapped up operation to destroy this place isn't important at all. "You died."

"I'm not that old," Clint says with a snort and reaches one hand out to him. He doesn't look like he can do much else than that at the moment. "Tell Stark to return the gravestone, or put it in storage."

Bucky barks out a sharp laugh and ends up sliding to the ground himself. It's easier to reach out with his right hand like this. Doesn't pull on the ribs that are mending too slowly when reaches in to grab Clint's hand. It's calloused and a little cold, but real and most definitely alive. "You son of a bitch, there was video. I had to watch that. I had to watch you-!"

"James," Clint says and his hand is being squeezed tight, the smile is gone from Clint's face and Bucky wants it back with a terrifying desperation, because he's already gone through the realization he'd never see it again. "It's alright. I'm not dead. I'm not going to die, ever, and neither are you."

His breath catches on a ball of pain that doesn't dislodge no matter how hard he breathes or how many reassurances Clint gives. Not until Steve arrives to rip open the bars and Bucky can drag himself close enough to hold Clint in his arms. Feel his pulse under his fingers and hear the beating of his heart going steady.


	16. Challenge

"Shut up and stop calling me Merida."

"Oh, and how are you going to make me stop?"

Clint doesn't even need to look over to see the cocky smirk on Barnes. It's all there in his voice as he keeps casually shooting Clint's arrows out of the air. Deliberately fucking with his aim just enough to prevent him from hitting a single target. For an hour straight now. It'd been funny at first, but then the asshole had started with the ribbing and taunting. Getting more and more annoying with each missed target.

He knows when he's being goaded into a fight, but the knowledge that he's just giving in doesn't stop him from spinning around and firing an arrow at the exact spot Barnes isn't anymore. Clint snarls and manages to wipe the satisfied grin off the man's face by clubbing him with the bow.

It looses him the weapon, but that doesn't matter. This isn't about killing one another and real weapons will only tempt Clint more than he should. Barnes is fast and strong, but Clint's faster and has years of fighting --with and against-- Natasha under his belt.

They fight viciously in the confined area of the range, not willing to move it out to the main gym. An advantage that favors Clint more than Barnes, and he takes full advantage of it. Crowding the man into tighter and tighter quarters so that he can't get the full sweeping range of his left arm in on the action. His sucker punches hurt like a bitch, but Clint's used to being thrown around. As long as he doesn't let Barnes actually get him in a hold he'll be fine.

The fight is brutal and short. Barnes is still grinning when Clint pins him against the wall. Confident even as Clint presses the flat part of a knife to his neck in a warning Clint almost didn't pull in time. "Well, look at that, Merida's got something else under he belt than a couple of sticks."

He's pushing, and Clint growls because there's really no way to get the asshole to stop without one or both of them busting something up. Nothing at all and Barnes knows it. Nothing except-

Clint's not one to think up of a good plan on the fly. When shit happens he usually just goes for the first thing that makes sense. There's usually no time to think through consequences when he's on the field. A bad habit, Nat's told him, that will get him in trouble.

When Barnes opens his mouth again, already forming the syllables of that damn name, Clint strikes. The kiss is mostly teeth, but Clint takes advantage of the other man's open mouth to still his tongue. Barnes tastes like coffee with a hint of ashes that Clint's never smelled on him before. He's not pushing Clint away, just standing there very still so Clint has to break the kiss himself. "Don't call me Merida, dick, or I'll find ways to shut you up."

"Yeah?" There's still a challenge in Barnes' eyes and Clint wonders for a split second if he's going to actually get his ass handed to him now. But then Barnes licks his lips. Slow and deliberate as the challenge takes on more heat. "Think you got something that can keep my mouth occupied?"

This might actually be the most brilliant plan Clint's ever come up with.


	17. Search History

“What the hell is a Winterhawk?!”

The question floats into the kitchen and Tony immediately abandons the food he’d been debating eating cold versus heated. He’s been waiting _weeks_ to hear that question. His stomach can handle being empty for a little while longer.

It’s not Clint that Tony finds sitting on the couch with the specially built, purple Starkpad he’d given the archer, and that makes the time it’s taken for this thing to come around all the sweeter.

“Isn’t that Clint’s pad?” Tony asks Bucky curiously as he suppresses the urge to laugh. He can do covert when he wants to, thank you very much Natasha.

Bucky ignores him and instead stares at the screen as he scrolls through it with far more dexterity than Clint. Really, it’s shameful how tech illiterate the man is. Even Steve does better than Clint.

Tony leans over Bucky to blatantly look at the screen as he swipes through the entire search history list Tony had worked hard to make look authentic. He’d expected Clint to find it weeks ago seeing as he was a spy and all.

“Are those all fansites?” Tony exclaims as Bucky clicks on a few of the URLs. He can’t help but burst out into laughter when the next one he clicks on has a rather, interesting front page. The artist is good, Tony will give them that. “Well, I think that answers the question quite nicely. Better erase you search history before giving that back to Hawkass,” Tony stares at the screen for a little longer and hums. “Or should I say Hawtass?”

He’s laying it on more than a little thick, but Bucky’s rattled. His face isn’t showing it but he hasn’t shut down the pad yet. Or even looked away from the picture that’s only a few scraps away from being straight up porn.

“Earth to Snowball,” Tony snaps his fingers a few times and gets a dark glare promising all kinds of terrible things that don’t really impress him much anymore. He gets that look too often to believe it anymore. “As much as I’d love to hear what sent you down this steamy little hole, I’ve got a date with some analysis programs,” and maybe the programmers too, “so just clean up your tracks and use your own computer to look up porn.”

Tony leaves quickly and gets a glimpse of a thoughtful look on Bucky’s face that makes him want to crow. His plan has turned out a million times better than he ever thought it would. All he’d wanted to do was get Legolas out of the creepy pining phase where he spent more time stalking Bucky and staring at his ass than anyone else. Having Bucky be the one to confront him is even better. Now all he has to do is see where Bucky decides to take this. He can’t wait to tell Bruce about this!


	18. Pop Figure

“Who the fuck drew a mustache on my Hawkeye pop figure?”

“Your what?” Clint stops, mug halfway raise to blink at the man standing in the door. “Those were yours?”

Bucky’s look of exasperation turned into a hard glare, because, yeah, that might as well have been an admission. “Yes, they’re mind. Clint, why would you draw on your own figure?”

“I thought they were Tony’s!” Clint says, and notices that Bucky hadn’t asked why he’d drawn on the little toy in purple marker. Self explanatory really. He gives the man points for learning quickly.

“They were, but then I liberated them,” Bucky stalks over to the sink with the defiled toy and turns the tap on to try to wash the ink off. It’s not going to work so well, Clint already knows, and he can feel the other man’s annoyance rise by the second.

“Shit, sorry,” Clint leaves his mug behind and steps behind Bucky. Making sure he knows exactly where Clint is before wrapping his arms around the other man. He looks over his shoulder and sees about what he expected to see. The marker’s not coming off at all. “I’ll get you a new one.”

“You damn well better,” Bucky holds it up and scowls at it, but leans back a little against Clint. He’s irritated but not pissed then, and Clint’s relieved to know he won’t have to be jumping at shadows for a few days.

They stand there in silence for a while after Bucky turns the tap off before Clint asks, “Why do you want toy figures of the team anyway?”

Because they’ve all seen the full set of toys when Tony had gleefully revealed them. If Bucky took one, he took them all. He just doesn’t strike Clint as the kind of guy to buy into that kind of stuff.

There’s a hint of smirk on his face as he holds the figure up in one hand at eye level for Clint. “I hide them around Stark’s lab. You have no idea how jumpy he gets when he finds one at 3AM.”

And that explains everything. Clint grins and presses a quick kiss to Bucky’s throat. “Alright, I’ll get you a replacement today.”


	19. My Shirt Looks Great on You

“I like the way you look in my shirt,” Bucky growls against Clint’s ear. Hands roaming the sleeves of the shirt which are too tight and outline every inch of his arms. The neck and shoulders are loose on Clint because Bucky is broader across than him, and it should look ridiculous on the man.

It doesn’t though because Bucky knows it’s his shirt. Knows it’s something of his on Clint. The possessiveness that comes from that knowledge is deeply instinctual, because there’s no one who could see Clint now and not know where he got that shirt. Not know why he’s wearing it. Especially not with the way the loose neck falls down to show off the bruises on his collarbone Bucky had put there the other night.

“Yeah, I know,” Clint turns in Bucky’s arm and gives him a slow kiss. He’s smirking when he pulls away, eyes dancing with laughter. “Want me to wear it to breakfast?”

“Fuck,” Bucky hisses and pushes Clint back against the closest wall with a hard kiss. The image of Clint sitting like he usually does at the table in his shirt, showing off his bruises hits Bucky hard. He like it too much for his own sanity.

They don’t make it to breakfast that day.


	20. Kiss or Die

“If I kiss him I’ll die but if I don’t kiss him I’ll die!” Clint exclaims only a little hysterically because he hates magic. Hates it, all capital letters, even worse than Tony does. It’s funny when it smacks someone else around for once but he’s been getting the brunt of magic spells lately. It’s no longer funny. “Nat!”

“Get a hold of yourself,” Natasha snaps with exasperation. He pulls back against her hold but the grip on his arm goes warning tight and he stops struggling. The only thing that’s going to suck more than dying is dying with a broken arm. “He won’t kill you.”

“You don’t know that,” he’s overreacting, he knows he won’t be killed, but the objections keep falling out of his mouth as he tries to figure out how to run from this problem. Clint follows as he pulled along the floor and towards a door he really does not want to knock on. The spell feels like a steady thrum underneath his skin. Focused on his lips that tingle more the closer they get.

“You’re cursed, Clint. No one can hold that against you,” Nat doesn’t let go even as she knocks loudly on the door. She’s done dealing with his whining and isn’t going to let him run away for the rest of the twelve hours he has left.

“Bullshit! When breaking it needs-” Clint cuts off in a strangled grunt when the door opens and Bucky looks out at them with one eyebrow already raised.

He’s not stupid. He takes in both their expressions, the grip Nat has on Clint, and the past six hours of revelations about the curse to put things together fast. A faintly amused smirk twists across his face as he steps back in an obvious invitation. It does totally unfair things to his face that makes Clint’s lips start to sting a bit from heat that isn’t natural.

“Fix it,” Nat orders and propels Clint in before marching back down the hall.

“I don’t need fixing!” Clint protests on automatic, and tries not to jump too much when Bucky closes the door. “Look this isn’t what it looks like, alright?”

“Really? You mean to tell me you haven’t been cursed to die if you don’t get a kiss from the person you love in the next day, and that Natasha seems to think that person is me?” Bucky asks with fake incredulous that Clint wants to wipe off him. “Well, that’s a damn shame then. I kinda like having your cocky ass around. Makes training more interesting.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Clint growls. He wants to go back to his room and hole up for the next week. Bucky’s hot, there’s no doubt about that, and Clint would never say no to spending a night or three with him. It’s the friendship that they’ve built through shooting competitions and stupid bets, pranks planned at insane hours of the morning when neither of them can sleep, and a shared liking for riling Tony up. It’s a companionship that had turned a healthy lust into something more that Clint had been perfectly happen ignoring until now. “You gonna kiss me or not?”

Bucky’s taking this better than Clint thought and there’s a bundle of nerves uncoiling in him when he gets backed up into the door. “I guess I can skip the romance for once given this is an emergency.”

“Not a romantic guy,” Clint gets out before he’s being kissed. It’s hot and electric enough that it sings through his blood. The magic burning and dispelling with a crackle that they both can hear. Almost like static electricity when Bucky pulls back.

“That do it?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah,” Clint licks his lips and lets his eyes wander away from Bucky’s face, still close. The awkwardness coming back to clutter his mind. Going back to camp out in his room for a week sounds great at the moment. “Well thanks for the ass-”

The second kiss isn’t as electrically charged as the first, but Clint’s breath catches when Bucky deepens it. Presses him back into the door with his whole body and wraps his right hand around the back of Clint’s neck. Clint moans a little when Bucky pulls back again, just enough to say, “Now it’s not an emergency, so I can take my time.”


	21. The Amazing (not) Flying Hawkeye!

“You’re Hawkeye! What do you mean you can fly?!”

Bucky gets a mad looking grin in answer and the other man is moving. Bow up and an arrow in the air, but he doesn’t stop running or slow down even as he jumps off the edge of the building. Bucky curses loudly and rushes to the edge to watch. Too late to stop the mad plan but needing to watch it happen. For the after action report if nothing else.

By the time he locks eyes on Clint again there’s a line stretched taut, and he’s swinging through the smoke filled air in a quick arc that lets him avoid most of the battle still raging on. For the brief second he’s in the air Bucky can almost believe him. It does look like Hawkeye is flying.

Right up until he hits the wall of the opposite building. Hard. Bucky sucks in a breath in sympathy, but Clint doesn’t hesitate. He lets go of the line and drops down onto the collapsing balcony. His weight makes it shudder and the man hanging off it screams before Clint can reach down and drag him back up. Not being gentle at all as he shoves the idiot who’d decided he needed to get video of the fight back into the open window he’d come out of earlier.

Before moving to follow, Clint takes the time to turn back to Bucky and grin brilliantly at him. Bucky shakes his head and goes back to monitoring the fight. It’s winding down and his help isn’t needed. He keeps his eyes on it anyway, and mentally starts going through the medkit he’s got back in his rooms. Trying to remember if he’s got anything that’s going to help with the massive bruising that he’s bound to find on Clint’s side later that night. “Flying Hawkeye, my ass.”


	22. Princess

“I said stop trying to braid my fucking hair in my sleep!”

Bucky’s voice rings out loudly in the silence that is the Tower this early in the morning. Steve gets up and turns on the coffee pot that he’d set up before going out for his run.

“No,” Clint sounds like he’s been laughing and the sound of him dodging a punch is familiar enough that it would’ve gotten Steve’s attention even without the arguing. “You look so pretty with- Ow, fucker!”

“Quit it,” Bucky’s voice lowers as they get closer to the kitchen. Not low enough for Steve to miss though. “I’m not some Disney princess.”

Clint cackles and Steve can hear Bucky growl in annoyance. Disney princess and the Avengers is a new thing that he suspects Tony started, and Clint’s only egged on. Both the laugh and growling are cut off abruptly with a silence that Steve politely doesn’t pay attention to as he sits back down to finish his eggs.

“Hey punk,” Bucky greets when he comes in, and Clint slides around him towards the dripping pot. Both are very careful to not touch or pay more attention to the other than usual.

“Morning,” Steve replies and doesn’t smile when Bucky pulls out enough food from the fridge for two, or when he sees Clint watching the other man from the corner of his eye. They’re the worst kept secret in the Tower, but Steve’s willing to let them have their privacy for as long as they want it. It’s enough for him to know that Bucky is happy.


	23. Bucky Bear

“Bucky bear?” Bucky repeats and feels like laughing hysterically. He doesn’t though because, as a kid, Clint is a tiny thing that clings to his side and looks up at him with huge eyes that are goddamn heartbreaking. Bucky hasn’t ever had anyone look at him like the way the kid is. Like Bucky’s someone special. An oddity for the age he is given the very few facts Natasha had been willing to part with when Clint was suddenly replaced with this deaged version.

Clint nods earnestly and doesn’t let go of Bucky even though the kid is about five seconds from falling asleep on his feet. “Can’t sleep. I need him.”

It doesn’t take much for Bucky to put the pieces together. Stark takes extreme pleasure in shoving the almost mythic status Captain America and the Howling Commandos achieved after the war. A status that has come with some strange things. Stuffed bears named for each of them isn’t the weirdest thing Bucky’s seen. It takes him back that Clint seems to have had one though.

“He’s not here,” Bucky has to say and, as distress takes over the kid’s face, Bucky crouches down to meet his eyes. “It’s ok, kiddo. You just left him at home. You’ll get him back soon.”

Clint’s lips tremble a bit and Bucky feels his gut twist at that. The kid doesn’t cry though his voice goes high and wavering. “I need him!”

“Tell you what, kid,” Bucky leans down to pick the boy up, marveling at how light he is yet again. “I’ll be your Bucky bear tonight alright? We can go get him tomorrow. That gonna work for you?”

“Yeah,” Clint responds immediately as he settles in close to Bucky. His head fitting neatly under Bucky’s chin. The kid is already relaxing as Bucky continues to the rooms set aside for Clint to use when he’s in the Tower. He’s glad they’d left the main room before having this conversation though. Stark’s already got an entire arsenal of material to use over the way Clint’s not left Bucky’s side at all that day. He doesn’t need more than that.

Clint’s already asleep by the time Jarvis opens the door for Bucky. He doesn’t even twitch when Bucky lays them both down on the bed. Only mumbles a little at the shift and clutches onto the thin material of Bucky’s shirt in a way that makes his chest ache, just a bit.


	24. Deadbeat

“I’m not taking you back! Even the baby hates you! And where the hell were you nine months ago?”

“What? That’s not even our baby? And I just went to get beer like you told me too! Wait where did the baby come from?” Bucky stares stupidly at the baby in Clint’s arms. Confusion and panic wars inside of him. The baby blinks wide blue eyes at him and continues to suck on it’s hand, drool dripping down. It’s the eyes that throw Bucky because they’re bright and familiar in a way that Bucky knows too well from staring too long at Clint’s eyes.

Clint’s lips twitch as Bucky racks his brain for an explanation. The only warning he gets before the other man is laughing long and hard. The baby turns it’s eyes to stare raptly at Clint, drooling mouth opening on a wide smile at the happy noise. One that’s joined by two other voices as two kids crawl over the couch to join Clint on the couch. Tousled haired, blond kids with the same eyes.

“You-” asshole, dies in his throat and Bucky throws the keys so they’ll bounce off of Clint’s face and not hit his nice or nephews. “When were you going to tell me your family was coming for a visit.”

“Um, now?” Clint smiles sheepishly and Bucky knows he either forgot about it or the kids had been dropped off without warning. Knowing what he knows of the Barton brothers either is equally likely.

“You’re just lucky I love you,” Bucky grouses and goes to the kitchen. Ignoring the squeals of ‘ews’ that come from the kids he hasn’t met before to put the beer away in the fridge. Mentally rearranging the day he’d already had planned, but not minding that as much as he should. Clint looks surprisingly good holding his young nephew.


	25. Safety

“It’s ok you can rest, I’ll keep you safe.”

They take turns on bad nights. One of them takes watch while the other attempts to get some sleep. One or two hours at the most seems to do them both more good than trying to reach for three. At least not when the third hour always leads to the inevitable nightmares. The high definition kind that wakes them with screams and takes too long afterwards to distinguish between the dream and the reality.

“I’m here, just go to sleep.”

It’s a comfort for them both to have the other there watching for danger. Whether it’s from an outside source or the internal source they both suffer through doesn’t matter. Just the fact that the other is there and understands is good enough. That’s how it started between them. Too many nights of wandering the floors at night and coming across the other had led to their current arrangement. One that worked to their relief.

“You’re fine, I’m here.”

The touch of a warm and calloused hand caressing down the side of a face is new between them but no less welcome. The affection is unspoken between them, just like their nightmares, but it makes them more vigilant. More invested in protecting the one whose turn it is to rest.

“I’ve got you.”


	26. Trust

“I trust you,” Clint says and doesn’t look up from where he’s disassembling the gun he’d been using to clean it.

The range is quiet and still. More than it was when Clint had been alone and shooting targets. He gives it a few minutes before looking up at Barnes. The man is staring at Clint with a dumbfounded look of incomprehension. Holding the loaded gun Clint had tossed him like it was a live grenade.

Clint grins at him and goes back to cleaning. Focusing on getting every part clean in the shortest amount of time possible. Tension coils up inside of him the longer the silence stretches but he doesn’t let that show at all. He works quickly but thoroughly and has the piece cleaned in minutes.

Barnes is still staring at him like he’s suddenly grown a third eye. Clint walks up to him and adjusts his grip on the gun a bit. Barnes’ hand move instinctively to the correct grip with a little prodding. There’s a question waiting to be asked and Clint answers before it can be.

“Only an idiot would think you needed a gun to kill any of us. Pretending your harmless unarmed is just stupid so you might as well keep your skills sharp,” because Barnes is a fighter, and he’s going to be part of the team as soon as his head gets settled. There’s no point denying it. Clint takes a step away and gives the man a slow wink. “Plus it’s always nice to watch a hot guy on the range.”

Clint strolls out casually, feeling eyes on his back the whole way out. He waits a few minutes once out the door and smiles when he hears the faint sound of the first shot being fired. Score one for Clint.


	27. Sleep

“It’s been a long time since I’ve slept so well,” Clint says and doesn’t look away from Bucky at all. The honesty in the man’s eyes and voice floors him.

The deep seated instinct to get away wars with the utter relief that fills him, because Bucky can relate too well to what Clint’s saying. They’d fallen asleep somehow on the couch watching movies. Morning had come and Bucky had found himself reluctant to swim up out of the comfortably dreamless sleep he’d been having. A first for him.

His past haunted him in one way or another at night, and Bucky’s gotten used to getting rest as a series of naps with long periods of wandering between each one. It’s how he’d found Clint up too late on many nights.

The understanding was mutual and they never talked about it. Only settling into a routine of late night movie watching. One that had grown comfortable enough for them both to fall asleep and wake up hours later tangled up together on the couch.

“Yeah,” Bucky finally admits. His voice rough and croaky from more than it just being morning. “I haven’t slept that good in a while either.”

“Come on,” Clint offers him a hand and Bucky takes it before he can overthink it. He’s pulled up and Clint doesn’t let go at all.

“Where we going?” Bucky asks as they step onto the elevators. He’s got an idea but he wants it spelled out for him.

“My room,” Clint says and still doesn’t let go of Bucky. There’s weariness in his face that Bucky can feel when he looks down at him. “I could use a few more hours of sleep, and so could you.”

Bucky doesn’t have a single protest to give.


	28. Sweet Nothings

“Let me sit by you and whisper sweet-nothings in your ear,” Bucky murmurs in a low and deep voice that makes Clint want to shiver and make some indecent noise of his own.

He clamps down on the urge by concentrating on the slow burn building up in his arms as he holds his stance. Eyes focused on the street below where a black-haired Natasha is discussing details of a fictitious account to a merc. His lips barely move when he mutters, “Quit that.”

“Nothing I ever imagined could compare to the reality of you,” Bucky, unsurprisingly, doesn’t listen and keeps on doing his best to destroy Clint’s brain. “You’re far more beautiful and perfect than any fantasy.”

Nat’s poker face is good, she doesn’t so much as twitch. Either that or she turned the comms off the minute Clint stupidly accepted the challenge to resist the infamous Barnes charm. “Just so you know I’m recording all this, and I will be selling it to the highest bidder the second this OP is done.”

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” Bucky’s voice gets deeper, and Clint damns his mind for wondering how the vibrations from that voice would feel against his ear. “There isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for just a chance to be with you. You don’t know how much I’ve longed for you.”

Clint snorts louder than he intended and forces himself to concentrate on following the exchange below. Nat’s wrapping it up, but he keeps his arrow pulled back and ready. Now is the moment when things will go wrong if they do go south. “You first saw me in the Ukraine and tried to put a bullet in my head.”

Bucky’s silent for a minute and it might have been cheating to bring up things he still doesn’t remember. Clint’s willing to go for any bit of slack he can get though. The merc is standing and Clint waits for it. One way or another.

“I remember that,” Bucky says and his voice is back in its normal range. The words slow and thoughtful in the way when he’s uncovering new memories. “I thought you were a hired guard,” amusement floods into the man’s voice, “I almost missed the target because I was too busy staring. My handler didn’t like that at all. They’d kept me out of the ice longer than usual that time.”

Clint watches the merc leave and relaxes his hold. Letting the string relax and giving his arms a break. He doesn’t move away from his position though. Not until Nat leaves the small cafe. “Tell that to the ribs you broke.”

Bucky laughs and Clint can hear the faintest sound of air moving. He’s already on the move. “Your face was far too pretty to put a hole in it.”

Back to the charming compliments. It says something about Clint’s life that he’d take that, along with the history behind it, as a compliment. “Really, quit it. You’re embarrassing me with how bad these lines are.”

“You say the sweetest things, babe,” Bucky says and his voice drops several rungs back down the register. Clint fights to keep the effect it has on him out of his body and face. It’s only a few more seconds before the Winter Soldier pulls himself up onto the roof Clint’s stake out.

Nat stands up and casually begins to make her way out. “We’ll meet you at the rendezvous,” Clint says and Nat flips a lock of hair behind her ear in acknowledgement.

Clint’s not surprised when he steps back and a hand snakes around his arm. Pulling him back into a solid wall of muscles. Bucky’s voice fills his ears through the comm line and he can feel the vibration of the words against him. “There isn’t a single guy in the world who knows me better than you. I never need to hold back with you.”

His breath is hot against the back of Clint’s neck and he shudders involuntarily. “Alright, alright! Fine. You win,” Clint spins away from the hold before his body can have any other unfortunate reactions. “I believe you. The Barnes charm works, happy now?”

“No,” Bucky says even though he’s smirking like the asshole he is. “Wanna know the real secret of my charm?” A warm hand cups the left side of Clint’s face before he can step further away, and Bucky’s right up against his chest. Eyes focused and intent on Clint. “It works because I never lie when I use it.”

And just as suddenly Bucky’s twisting away. Leaving Clint cold and more than a little worked up by the simple admission. Clint curses and forces his mind back into the game before running to catch up. Damn that Barnes charm.


	29. Only Sleeps

“A king never dies, just sleeps,” Clint pauses in the story telling. The fairytale isn’t at all what he’d been expecting it to be. Par for the course when it came to the books Laura wrote. His niece shifts impatiently and Clint picks back up for the final lines. “And so the kingdom continued on around their sleeping king making sure his castle was well tended, and his magnificent horse always brushed. For one day, they all knew, would come the perfect person to wake their beloved king with the kiss of true love.”

Lila sighed happily in his lap when Clint closed the book. “What happens next?”

“Well, we’re going to have to wait and see won’t we?” Some headstrong prince or princess would come along in the next chapter Clint was sure. That was how Laura’s stories tended to go even if they took less traditional paths to get there.

The fact that his sister was writing again was a good sign that she was getting over the upset of having to be moved to a new country. As up in the air as things were there was no way Clint was ever going to trust leaving his only family that far out of reach.

“Do you think Mr. Bucky will find someone to kiss him awake?” Lila asks. Jolting Clint out of his thoughts.

He looks up on reflex to the container holding the Winter Soldier. It’s running smoothly and there’s been no change to the man asleep inside. having a watch isn’t needed with Barnes, but pulling guard is a sadly soothing habit. He smiles a little at the name, “No, sweetheart, Mr. Bucky’s no waiting for a kiss. He’s waiting for something that’s going to make him better.”

“His arm?”

“Yeah, yeah he’s waiting for his arm,” Clint lies because he doesn’t want to explain to his niece about brainwashing. Not now, not ever. Clint swings the girl up into the air above his head quickly before setting her, squealing, back onto the ground. “Now, I think someone is going to be late for dinner if she doesn’t get going.”

Lila hugs the booklet to her chest and moves towards Barnes instead of the door. Clint tenses a little but she stops short of the glass and just looks at the man for a ponderous moment before spinning back around. “I think you should kiss him too. Just in case. Everyone needs kisses.”

Clint laughs and rolls up to his feet, rolling his shoulders back to loosen them. “You’re absolutely right kiddo, but how about we wait for that arm to come in first, alright?”

Lila beams when he kisses her forehead and there really isn’t a whole lot that Clint won’t say or do to keep that innocent smile right where it is. “Now come on, before your mother takes both our desserts away for being too late.”

~

The last chapter is finished nearly six months later, and Clint finds himself sitting outside with his niece in his lap finishing the tale up for her. Laura watches them both with a smile that’s not as wicked now that Clint isn’t also reading to the amused looking guards who had wandered up.

“And though his savior was but a common hunter, the king loved him deeply as did the kingdom,” Clint scans down to the final lines and holds back a snicker. Predictable. Laura was always a sucker for cliches. “And so they were married and-”

“And they lived happily ever after!” Lila sings out with a grin.

“You got it, kiddo,” Clint closes the book and hands it over.

“It’s the only way to end a proper story,” Laura says with a laugh as she gets up. Plucking a few blades of grass from he pants. “Now come on, I’ve still got to make dinner.”

The story’s now in a proper binding, and Lila hugs it to her chest as she jumps up and runs after her mother. Laura looks at Clint but he shakes his head and leans back against the tree they’d been sitting under. Waiting for them to be gone before looking up into the branches. “Didn’t take you for a fairytale kind of guy.”

Barnes shifts and drops from the perch he’d taken shortly after Lila had approached Clint with the book. He only wobbles a little on the landing. The arm he has now much lighter than the one he’d had before and messing with his center of gravity even with a week of getting used to it. “Had to make sure the king got saved, didn’t I?”

Clint feels his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Though it maybe shouldn’t be much of one. He’s heard of people going under who could still hear things around them, but that was mostly people in comas. “Huh, thought that thing was supposed to put you to sleep.”

“I slept, sometimes,” Barnes says and doesn’t seem inclined to talk further on the issue. Clint doesn’t press for details. He just wonders how many of Lila’s storytimes he caught until a small smirk edges the man’s lips up. “Have to say, I’m a bit disappointed that I didn’t get myself a kiss along with my arm.”

Clint thinks about being embarrassed for half a second before discarding it. Barnes is proving himself to be a decent guy with a sense of humor Clint appreciates. “Eh, real life isn’t a fairytale, and I require at least one full meal before I start kissing people.”

“Would popcorn count if I paired it with a movie?” Barnes asks and the smirk grows wider, but there’s enough of a stiffness to it that Clint can see some nerves showing through.

“Only if I pick the movie,” Clint says because why the hell not? Everyone needs a little kissing in their life.


	30. Oblivious

“What do you mean he’s been flirting with me?” Clint asks when the caffeine kicks in and clears the exhaustion from his mind. Every conversation he’d grunted through catching up to him to be properly processed.

Natasha looks amused as she looks up from the bowl of granola something she’s been crunching through. Long used to the way Clint delays processing things when not on a mission. She often deliberately waits to drop heavy things on him the second he wakes up just so she can watch him get it half an hour later. It’s hilarious to her for some reason Clint’s not willing to figure out. “You heard me.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Clint glares at her from across the table. There’s a bowl of granola in front of him too, no milk, and Clint grudgingly eats it. He knows better than to refuse food made for him. Even if it’s just a poured bowl, Nat is not above forcing him to eat it. “I’m just not seeing where you’re getting flirting from.”

Far as Clint knows, Nat hasn’t been paying any special attention to Barnes at all. Which doesn’t mean much for her and the look she fixes on him is expressive. Equal parts questioning his intelligence and why she lets herself know him. “‘Wanna see me handle my other gun?’ You know what a bad pick up line is, Clint. You use them yourself, you can’t be that blind.”

“It was a joke!” Clint protests because he’d been on the range with Bucky trying to out shoot each other, and the other man had wagged his eyebrows in a ridiculous way that made Clint crack up when the line was delivered. Nat’s look is flat though and Clint starts to doubt his own impression. “Right?”

“He’s flirting with you,” the ‘idiot’ is unspoken but very much there. “Stop being oblivious. It’s gone past the point of being funny.”

Protests build up in his throat but he doesn’t say any of them. This is what Nat does for him. She sticks around to point out all the things to close that he’d miss without her interference. If she says that Bucky’s been flirting with him then Bucky’s been flirting with him and Clint just hasn’t noticed. Which is a damn shame, because Bucky is someone Clint hadn’t thought was a possibility except for a few half-tired wondering he’d cut off fast for his own sanity. “Well, damn.”

Nat snorts and they finish eating in silence as Clint works out how he’s going to go about making up for being oblivious for however long he’s been flirted with.


	31. Approval

“We are not asking the dog’s opinion!” Bucky exclaims in futile exasperation because Clint’s already out the door and calling for Lucky. Bucky groans and lets his head hit the closest wall once or twice before following the other man. The bundle of nerves he’s been all day is rapidly being replaced by the familiar annoyed fondness that only Clint seems capable of inspiring in people.

Lucky’s grinning happily when Bucky comes down the stairs. His tongue lolling out and tail going a mile a minute as Clint looks up at Bucky with a solemn face that doesn’t match the hysterical laughter in his eyes. “Well, good news for you, looks like Lucky approves.”

“What a relief,” Bucky drawls out and crosses his arms over his chest, giving Clint the best flinty look he can manage even as his irritation starts to lighten into relief. “That still doesn’t answer my damn question, Barton.”

Clint laughs and gives the dog one more scratch before standing up. He pulls Bucky in close despite the way his arms make it impossible to get too close comfortably. “Come on James,” Bucky feels warm at the rarely used name and feels his arms relaxing without thought. Allowing Clint to worm his way in closer so that they’re both holding each other loosely. “I’d be an idiot to say anything other than yes.”

“You are an idiot,” his idiot, but idiot none the less. “That’s still not an answer.”

“Yes, Bucky,” Clint says with a snort as he leans in. “Yes, I’ll marry your insufferable ass.”

The mixture of relief and annoyance is, sadly, a common feeling around Clint. Bucky ignores the contradiction as he leans down to kiss his fiance.


	32. Search History 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of CH. 17.

Clint wakes up with a jolt to a massive weight on his stomach and two hands pinning his own down. The adrenaline jolt has him awake in a way that he usually needs an entire pot of coffee for, but he’s already relaxing as he recognizes it’s Bucky on top of him. Not exactly a reassuring place to find himself in, but Clint knows that if the man has snapped he’d have been dead before he woke. Though it’s probably a close thing going by the annoyed look on the other man’s face.

“Uh, hey,” Clint waves his right hand a bit and gets no slack at all. “Mind getting off of me?”

“Off of you or _on_ you?” Bucky is quick to reply and Clint chokes on his own spit.

Clint coughs hard and gets released with an amused snort. He curls up as much as Bucky still being on top of him will allow and pounds at his own chest until he can breathe right. “Uh, what?” Clint finally manages to ask intelligently.

“You heard me,” Bucky’s smirking now. Smug and entirely too secure as he looms over Clint. “Do you want me to get off of you or not?”

The amount of innuendo in that question is mind staggering, and makes Clint’s mouth go dry. He’d be a dirty liar to say he hasn’t ever thought about Bucky that way. Often and maybe with a little bit of lube to make the thinking easier. He hadn’t gone much beyond that though. Hadn’t taken it to the point where he gave serious consideration about whether or not Bucky might have the same kind of thoughts.

Which is clearly an oversight on his part because here the man is, offering- Well, Clint’s not entirely sure what’s all on offer but he likes what he sees so far.

“I think you’re fine right where you are,” Clint says and watches Bucky’s eyes darken. He places his hands on the man’s legs –which are as solid as he’s thought of them– and arches up into the weight pinning him down.

Clint’s got no idea what brought this on but like hell he’s going to complain about it.


	33. Guest

“THIS IS THE THIRD DOG!!”

The slamming of the door hadn’t woken Natasha, nor had the strangled scream. It had been the scratching of claws on the floor outside the apartment that brought her up from her sleep. One extra set than usual. She slits her eyes open and looks at the door to Clint’s room, closed because she needs sleep and not a a dog tongue bath.

“It’s not a dog,” Clint protests and there’s a wheedling tone in his voice that she knows all too well. James doesn’t stand a chance against it. Not until he can build up a better resistance than what he has now. “It’s a puppy! Look at it, how can you expect me to just leave it out there in the rain!”

“Clint-” There’s silence that she supposes is James grinding his teeth together and fighting a battle he’s already lost. “Fine, as soon as it’s not raining though we’re taking it to the shelter and-”

He’s cut off with a whoop of laughter, and a crash as two bodies fall onto the couch. Natasha knows that the puppy won’t be going to any kind of shelter any time soon. Probably not ever.

There’s another telling silence from down below, broken only by the sound of dogs walking around. She ignores it and closes her eyes to go back to sleep again. A few more hours of rest and she’ll be able to leave for one of her own safehouses without either of the two men knowing she was even there.


	34. Entertain Me

“Didn’t know you could dance,” Clint is stopped from his stealthy retreat by a pair of hands on his sides. One metal and one flesh. He turns to find Bucky grinning at him. “You can sing, play, and dance. What other surprises are you holding out on me?”

“An insatiable love for horrible television,” Clint says only half-jokingly as Bucky pulls him the rest of the way out of the ballroom someone had rented for this hellish thing. Clint relaxes as soon as he can’t feel the buzzing of too many people around him. PR may be having a field day with this meet and greet the Avengers thing, but Clint is only one snotty question about how useful he really is in the field away from ruining all the good publicity they’ve generated so far. “I was a performer in a circus, I know how to entertain.”

Bucky opens a door to something that looks like a large closet. It’s roomy enough to be an apartment but the walls are lined with empty racks and shelves. It’s quiet and still there in a way that Clint’s been craving since the night began. The music from the room seeps in reluctantly through the walls, a slow song with no words.

“Entertain me then,” Bucky says and moves into a dancing position and pulls Clint even closer.

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” Clint snaps back but the smile he wears takes all the bite out of it as he follows Bucky’s lead. They’re swaying and shuffling more than dancing despite the fact that Clint knows Bucky is no slouch at dancing himself. It’s alright though. Clint doesn’t really feel like putting on a show right now. He lets himself get pulled closer and puts his head down on Bucky’s shoulder. Letting the tension that’s been building in him go slowly. “I hate these things.”

“Hm,” Bucky hums in wordless agreement. His face turns into Clint’s and they dance in silence. Taking comfort in each other before they have to go back out to face the crowds.


	35. Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the way if I repeat any of these chapters let me know. I did it once or twice already and had to delete chapters.

“Stark, I bet you 20 bucks my ‘40’s antics’ could pick up anyone in this room,” Bucky boasts even as the dangerous smirk on the other man’s face tells him it’s a bad, bad idea.

“You’re on!” Stark grins with utter glee and makes a show of examining the bar he’s bought out for the evening. Every person in the place has been vetted, by multiple sources, so there is no problem with him picking a target that could actually be dangerous. That doesn’t mean whoever he picks isn’t going to be problematic though. “Alright, strut your stuff hot shot.”

Bucky follows one very pointy finger to the crowd gathered around the dart boards. More specifically, Stark’s pointing at Clint Barton who has the crowd’s attention with his usual antics.

“Go get him!” Tony laughed and raised a glass in a mocking toast before wandering away.

Bucky smirks at his back and goes to the bar getting a refill for himself, and ignoring the look he gets when he requests a coffee. Clint’s taking a break when Bucky makes his way over to the game. Laughing as the darts are snatched from his hands by someone, a frustrated SHIELD agent Bucky notes distantly.

“Got you a drink, babe,” Bucky goes up to Clint from the side and puts on his best smile. The one that’s charming with just a hint of promise. Enough to draw them in but not enough to scare them off. Clint immediately holds his hand out for the mug his eyes are already locked on, but Bucky stretches his arm out and around the man instead. Holding it out on the far side of him.

“Alright,” Clint smiles crookedly, a hint of humor tinged with uncertainty in his eyes as he relaxes into the loose hold Bucky now has one him. “Babe’s a new one.”

“You told me to stop calling you a dreamboat,” Clint’s stiff and tense but it doesn’t show on his face at all. Bucky steps out of the way of someone angling to get to the dart boards, conveniently stepping closer to Clint. “What else am I going to call you?”

“You can’t get drunk,” Clint’s eyes flick to the bottle Bucky’s holding before scanning the bar suspiciously. “How much money is riding on this bet?”

“Twenty,” Bucky responds truthfully and doesn’t let his smile fade one bit.

“You’re willing to out yourself for twenty dollars?” Clint relaxes and the wariness is replaced by silent laughter as Clint grins at him. “Well, then, by all means….”

Bucky pulls down and Clint flows easily into the kiss. Chaste but firm, because they are in public. Bucky’s back itches like crazy but when he pulls back no one’s paying them any particular mind. And why should they? Two fellas stepping out isn’t uncommon these days. From somewhere in the back of the bar he can hear Tony yelling, “That’s bullshit!”


	36. Sip

“Just a sip, I saID JUST A SIP!”

Clint finishes the mug down to the last, bitter dregs. Slightly grainy. Probably time to change the filter in the machine then if the grounds are slipping through. He sets the mug down with a sigh and smiles at the glower he’s getting from Bucky. “No such thing as a sip when it comes to coffee.”

“You have a problem,” Bucky says. His voice is only a little exasperated despite the angry look on his face. Clint has learned to trust what he hears over what he sees with Bucky. “You need help.”

A hush fills the kitchen, a tension filling it that Clint ignores as he avoids the magnet letters and legos that litter Laura’s kitchen floor like landmines. He can hear his sister outside talking to someone, Steve or maybe Nat, as he cracks his neck. Not as sore as it should be for sleeping on the couch.

“Hm, think I can get a prescription for a caffeine patch?” Clint grabs the empty mug and a new one before going to the machine. Wet grounds spill out as he changes the filter from several holes confirming his suspicions. Tony. Clint’s sure that the man is to blame, he usually is. Bucky really should be thanking Clint for saving him from the dregs. “Or, oh! Better yet, a coffee IV drip!”

“No,” there’s laughter and also more than a little bit of horror in his voice that makes Clint grin. There’s no amusement on his face but the horror is plastered on it, exaggerated comically. “You’ll vibrate through the floors with that.”

The laughter is muffled and they both pretend to ignore the sounds coming from under the kitchen table. Clint ignores the shushing as he turns back to the table with two neatly filled mugs. Coop protests loudly when Clint pushes him with one foot, and misses Lila with the other. Huh, kid must be sitting on Bucky’s feet then.

It’s confirmed when Bucky gives him a half shrug when he takes his mug back. Clint grins and relaxes. Feeling Coop grab onto his leg and curl up around it as Lila continues laughing. It’s a bright and warm moment that Clint imprints in his mind.


End file.
